Being Me Has Its Privileges
by trickstersink
Summary: Hermione dies at the end of DH. Time-travel fic with a really strange twist and loads of pent up hostility. Rated T just in case.


**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Harry Potter. I just enjoy twisting the series in various ways to suit my creative mind.

**Being Me Has Its Privileges**

**Prologue: **Off I Go

I could scarcely breathe, but it didn't matter. I should've been worried…about so many things. I should've been worried that I couldn't breathe. I should've been worried that there was a battle going on around me. I should've been worried that said battle was now going in slow motion. I should've been beyond worried that I no longer had my wand in my hand and Bellatrix Lestrange was standing before me with an evil smirk, her wand raised and ready.

I was no longer worried.

I braced myself as she cast the spell, the vibrant green light moving rapidly towards me. For a brief moment, I wondered if I would see my life flash before my eyes, but as the green light continued to approach me, I realized that it wasn't going to happen. A part of me wished it would so I could remember. Just remember. That part wanted my last thoughts to be happy ones. The other part of me was glad that there was nothing to distract me from the last glorious moments of my life.

The light hit me square in the chest so hard, I flew backwards and into someone else. Strong arms wrapped around me instinctively as the person fell with me to the hard floor of the Great Hall.

I could no longer feel my body. I no longer had operating limbs, but for some reason, that didn't concern me. I could still see and that was what I was focused on. I couldn't hear anything or smell anything, but I could see and feel.

The arms wrapped around me were pale and slightly chilled, partially covered by black sleeves. The person beneath me shifted and lowered me the rest of the way to the floor.

Lord Voldemort raised himself up to his knees beside me, one of his arms still beneath my shoulders. I wasn't afraid. I was already dead. I had no reason to be afraid.

My ability to feel was fading, but that was okay. I could still see for now.

Something, possibly recognition, flashed across the Dark Lord's eyes. Above his head was the confused and furious face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her lips moved, but neither Lord Voldemort nor I seemed to hear her.

Everything was disappearing—blurring together—and something was pulling, pulling, pulling. The last thing I saw was the Dark Lord's face, twisted with recognition and surprise, before everything blended together in a mix of shapes and colors I could barely make out.

My surroundings, that one feeling of being pulled, was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar. It felt and looked different than it had the last time I'd endured it.

Certain things I was actually able to make out. Faces seemed to move past me; places; events. Harry's limp body being carried by Hagrid. Severus Snape's bleeding body on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

Maybe your life does flash before your eyes.

Ron and Harry arguing. Ron covered in blood. Bill and Fleur's wedding. Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy tower.

_Wait, I never saw that._

Inferi, Harry, Dumbledore. Harry on the floor at the Ministry being possessed by Voldemort. Dumbledore and Voldemort. Sirius Black falling through the veil. Harry teaching Dumbledore's Army. Harry in a cemetery, his wand connected with Voldemort's. Dragons. Dementors. A white stag. Lupin in his werewolf form. A giant basilisk. The Sorcerer's Stone. A giant troll. The Hogwarts Express.

Everything became more blurry, jumping rapidly from event to event, all moving backwards. The faces of my parents. My Hogwarts letter. My entire childhood swept by me. My muggle life and muggle relatives. A flash of green and a baby boy with no mark on his forehead yet. Green, green, green.

Lily Potter, dead. James Potter, dead. Snape on his knees in front of Dumbledore. Sybil Trelawney with a distant expression, her lips moving soundlessly as Dumbledore listened. Murder. Torture. The bodies of Neville's parents writhing in pain. Death Eaters. Faces I didn't recognize doing things I hadn't been alive to see.

And then Voldemort's face as I'd last seen it started to morph, a nose appearing and the crimson red of his eyes disappearing. Black hair grew, slick and combed. Years were taken away as everything started to slow down, down, down.

A house on a hill, dark and undisturbed suddenly filled with green light. Wizards carrying a dead girl down the staircase past a lone figure. A young man's angry face.

Tom Marvolo Riddle stared down at me, but I didn't think much of it. The last couple years of my life had revolved around his existence. It didn't shock me that he filled my mind at the brink of death. After all, what did I have to worry about?

But then he spoke.

"What are you doing here at this time of night?"

**A/N: Confusing? I damn well hope so. [Insert evil laugh here] I'm going to have so much fun with this story…if I continue with it. It can't really be a one-shot, but really I only posted it on a whim. I know where this could go, but I honestly don't know if I have the time for another fanfic right now.**

**It would be so much fun though…**

**This might be full of mistakes. It's late and I was starting to talk myself out of posting it, so I just did it. If anything major is wrong with it, tell me and I'll fix it. Please, tell me what you think, but be nice. No flames please. There's a fine line between constructive criticism and insults. The first is perfectly fine, but the second I have no patience for.**

**Thanks.**


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